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Nothing was going Molly’s way. In the morning, she accidentally swallowed a mouthful of toothpaste and spent the next five minutes coughing and smacking her lips. “That’ll keep your breath smelling fresh,” said her Dad, chuckling, as he raced out the door. Next, at school, Molly flopped into her chair and heard a loud, terrible ripping sound race down the back of her jeans. “That’ll keep you nice and cool,” said her teacher, snickering, as she walked to her desk. Then, at dinner, Molly wasn’t paying attention and got tomato soup all over her face. “That’ll keep your cheeks looking rosy,” said her Mom, giggling, as she passed a towel across the table.

Molly was tired of hearing grown-ups laugh at her. She couldn’t help being a klutz. It wasn’t like she meant to trip over her sneakers, or get gum in her hair, or bounce a basketball in some special way so it always came back and hit her smack in the nose. These things just happened. All the time.

After the tomato-soup fiasco, Molly stormed out into the backyard where no one was around to make fun of her. It wasn’t fair. She’d never be a ballerina or a world-class gymnast or an Olympic figure skater. Gravity was her sworn enemy. She needed to get to the Moon where gravity wouldn’t bother her anymore. Molly kicked a stone in anger, but it was buried deep in the ground and didn’t budge, so she ended up stubbing her toe. “Owowowow ow ow ow!” she cried, hoping on one foot.

“Molly, don’t scream!” her Mom called from inside the house.

Stupid toe. She kicked a tin bucket with her good foot, but it boomeranged off the tree and landed on the pavement with a clang.

“Molly, don’t make a racket!” her Dad called.

Stupid tree. Molly tried to push a chair over but it ended up landing on her dog, Farfel, who was lying hidden next to the seat. “Bark bark!” Farfel yelped, but it sounded like he was saying “Molly, behave!”

She looked around the backyard for something else to throw. Then her eyes fell on a tangled-up jump rope curled in the corner. “This is good,” Molly thought, working out the rope’s knots. “This is perfect for some old-fashioned stomping.”

She whipped the jump rope around her and landed with a satisfying thud. STOMP. She did it again, and again, faster and faster. STOMP STOMP STOMP. Molly was beginning to feel better. But as Molly kept jumping, she started to notice something strange. Every time the rope swung around, it seemed to get a little longer. STOMP. Yup, that rope was definitely longer. STOMP. It was getting harder to whip around her, too. STOMP STOMP STOMP. She swung the rope up in the air with a mighty heave and then…nothing. The rope didn’t come back down. “Hold on,” Molly thought. “This rope is stuck!”

She pulled on the handles as hard as she could. The rope didn’t budge. She peered into the dark sky; she saw the cord reach high up and then disappear behind a cloud. Molly leaned back, further and further, tugging on the handles and trying to free the rope, and then she leaned back even further so she was almost sitting on the ground and then…

WHOOOOOOSH! We have lift off! Molly rocketed into the air like she was on the tail end of a giant slingshot, and she flew up past the trees, so high that she couldn’t see her dog or her yard or even her house. She soared past the clouds and past the flickering lights of the planes, and she squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the handles of her jump rope as tight as she could.

Then, all of a sudden, Molly could feel herself slowing down. Very carefully, she opened one of her eyes, just in time to see the Earth below her and her jump rope caught on a star. She let one of the rope’s handles go and she straightened her legs and she straightened her arms and then, very gently, and ever-so-gracefully, she came to a stop on the edge of another star. A perfect landing!

Molly looked around. She saw the sun and the moon and more stars than she could ever begin to count. She saw Mars glowing like a fire engine and Jupiter spinning like an enormous marble. She saw asteroids whizzing by like a swarm of bees. Carefully, Molly pulled on the handle of the jump rope. It held tight. Then she stepped off the star and swung in a smooth, easy arc and landed with her feet together on a comet.

She rode the comet for a while, looking at all the planets, and then she swung down in perfect splits on to the rings of Saturn.

Molly ran along the rings as fast as she could go. She did a handstand. She did a cartwheel. She did a super-high back flip. She did thirty-five somersaults in a row, and when she felt herself falling off the rings, she simply reached up a hand and found her jump rope and swung back to the safety of a star. Molly sat down and dangled her legs off the edge, catching her breath.

Suddenly a noise broke through the silence. Molly leaned further into space and cupped a hand to her ear. Far, far below she could hear Farfel barking. “Bark, bark,” he yelped, but it sounded like he was saying “Molly, come home!”

She took a last look around and hopped off the star, holding tight onto the handle of her jump rope, spinning and twirling around the cord like an acrobat. Down she went, past the stars and the planes, past the clouds and the trees, all the way back to her very own yard. She let go of the rope and did one last somersault in the air and landed softly on her feet. “Bark!” Farfel said appreciatively.

Molly kicked a stone in triumph, but it was buried deep in the ground and didn’t budge, so she ended up tripping and falling flat on her back. She lay there for a while, sighing, while Farfel licked her face and Molly looked up at the stars.